


Adore You, Always

by psychotic_fangirl369



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jealous Sherlock, John realising he loves Sherlock, Johnlock - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22587196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychotic_fangirl369/pseuds/psychotic_fangirl369
Summary: Sherlock is perfectly okay with John going on a date. Why wouldn’t he be? Sherlock doesn’t have emotions. He’s been told this plenty of times over the years. And yes, John isn’t like other people. Sherlock doesn’t despise him  or his presence like he does everyone else. John… John matters, in a way that no one else ever has. He’s family. But still. Sherlock does not care that John is on a date, leaving Sherlock alone in their flat. Really. He doesn’t.********Otherwise known as the one where John goes on a date, Sherlock mopes, John ambushes Sherlock in bed and our idiot boys finally realise that they are in love with each other.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 303





	Adore You, Always

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a while since I posted anything on this site. I hope you all like my first Johnlock fic. 
> 
> I apologise for the fluff. 
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> xxx

Sherlock is perfectly okay with John going on a date. Why wouldn’t he be? Sherlock doesn’t have emotions. He’s been told this plenty of times over the years. And yes, John isn’t like other people. Sherlock doesn’t despise him or his presence like he does everyone else. John… John matters, in a way that no one else ever has. He’s family. But still. Sherlock does not care that John is on a date, leaving Sherlock alone in their flat. Really. He doesn’t.

It _shouldn’t_ bother him. But it does. Sherlock wishes it didn’t. There is no logical reason why John dating should have any effect on him. But… but it does. John is his person. His flatmate. His colleague. His friend. John is _Sherlock’s_ person. And Kathy or Caitlin or whatever her name is, doesn’t get to take his person – his John – away from him.

Sherlock sighs and rolls over in his bed. The flat is too quiet – too empty. He needs his John. And how Sherlock hates it. This weakness he has. He never used to have any. He was strong. Emotionless. His own being. But not anymore. Now, John is his everything. John is his happiness. John is his life. John is his heart. John is his life. Sherlock can only wonder if John feels it too, that connection between them. Because John Watson is the only person who’s emotions he struggles to read. He is the only person who has learnt how to hide things from Sherlock.

The door to the flat bangs open and Sherlock sits up in his bed, listening, tense. He relaxes when he hears John’s voice as he swears, before closing the door gently. (Purposefully gentle. As though he just realized that Sherlock was, for the first time in days, in his room, presumably asleep, and John doesn’t want to wake him.) Interesting, Sherlock muses. He glances at the time. The date mustn’t have gone well. John is never home before midnight if the date he is on is a success. John hasn’t even gone back to her place and no one has come home with him. He listens as John moves about the flat. His footsteps are slightly uneven, indicating John’s mild intoxication. But he isn’t too drunk, Sherlock deduces. When John is very drunk, he stumbles, and Sherlock can hear that John isn’t, in fact, drunkenly stumbling about the flat. Good. Sherlock is never sure what to do with a drunk John Watson.

John’s footsteps move closer and Sherlock’s brain supplies that John must be heading for the bathroom. Sherlock lies back in bed and closes his eyes, ignoring the relief fluttering around his stomach. But John doesn’t go in the bathroom. His footsteps stop outside Sherlock’s door and then he stands there, silent and unmoving. Sherlock furrows his brow, slightly concerned, but then his door is opening and John is stepping inside.

Sherlock pushes up on his elbows and peers at John, squinting in the dark room, the only light flickering in from the hallway.

“John?” he asks.

John doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks over and sits down on the edge of Sherlock’s bed. Sherlock hesitantly sits up properly and scans John. His face looks tense (Bad date? Unhappy? Angry?) and his hands are gripping his trousers (Upset? Hurt? Scared? Angry? Nervous?) Sherlock tries to deduce, but all he can focus on is that John seems nervous. And why would he be? Why would he be nervous around Sherlock?

Sherlock is too worried. Too concerned and his brain won’t work, damn it. He reaches out and places a hand on John’s shoulder. John tenses further, but then his entire body relaxes, his shoulders sagging.

“John?” Sherlock ventures again.

John stares down at his hands. “It’s been brought to my attention, again, that I am unable to maintain a romantic relationship because I am already involved in one.”

Sherlock raises his eyebrows, but quickly smooths out his expression. He doesn’t understand what John is saying. Is he secretly in a relationship? No. Sherlock would have deduced it. He would have been able to tell. It is impossible to hide affairs from him. All Sherlock has to look for is perfumes and texts and behavioural patterns and smug smiles and secrets. John can’t keep secrets. Not from Sherlock. No. This girl John was with tonight was the first relationship John has had in three months. Tonight was date number five and John had seemed committed to the woman, whatever her name is. John is no cheater.

“John, I don’t understand.” Sherlock hates saying that. He hates admitting that he doesn’t _know_ everything.

John, finally, looks up and meets Sherlock’s gaze. “No,” John murmurs. “No, you don’t, do you.” He says it as a statement, not a question. John licks his lips. “Neither did I. Despite everyone saying it. But maybe they _are_ right. No. No, they are right. I am 100% invested in someone, I just didn’t realize it.”

For the first time in his life, Sherlock feels stupid. What is John talking about?

John swallows heavily. “Sherlock. Sherlock, don’t you see? I never have a girlfriend for more than a few weeks. They never work, because I don’t put them first. I can’t put them first. If I am with them and you message, I come to you. If I have a date and a case comes up, I choose the case and you.”

Sherlock blinks at John. “We’re friends. Friends help each other.” Sherlock doesn’t really know much about friends. He’s never had one before John. But he’ll always choose John. Always help John.

John laughs – in disbelief, Sherlock thinks.

“Sherlock, I killed a man for you. We’d only known each other a couple days!” 

“You’re a good person,” Sherlock says. The best person.

“I moved in with you, despite the experiments and the body parts in the fridge and your insane quirks and your lack of social skills.”

“We got on,” Sherlock whispers. “We had fun together at that first crime scene. It makes up for my, as you put it, quirks.”

He doesn’t understand how John’s relationship with him has anything to do with his romantic relationships. There is a queasy feeling in his gut. He pulls his hand back from John’s shoulder, but John reaches out and grabs it, encasing Sherlock’s hand in both of his own.

“Sherlock, I moved in with you because for the first time since returning to London, I felt alive. I stayed with you because you make me smile when I thought I would never be able to again. I come on cases with you because of how alive it makes me feel – not just because of the thrill, but because of how much I love to see you use that brilliant mind of yours. I put up with the experiments and the body parts because it makes you happy. I drop my girlfriends and cancel other plans because when you message me, I’ll always choose to be with you over anyone else. And because I worry about you going on cases alone. I make you tea and force you to eat because I know that if I don’t, you won’t bother, and I hate to see you not looking after yourself. It scares me.”

John stops here, taking a deep breath. Sherlock stares at his friend. He is completely stunned by the words coming out of John’s mouth. He’d never realized that John cared so much. Oh, he knows that they are friends. He knows that John has to like him, otherwise why would he put up with all of Sherlock’s drama? But to hear John talk about him so… Sherlock can barely breathe.

“Sherlock, they were right,” John says softly, gently squeezing Sherlock’s hand which is still inside both of John’s. “Kathleen and Jennifer and Sophia and Martha – all of them. They broke up with me because they said that I was already completely devoted to someone else. I couldn’t see it before, but now. Sherlock… you and me… we’re everything. _You_ are everything. And I can’t be with anyone else because I am already with _you.”_

They stare at each other for a few, silent moments. Sherlock can’t believe the words John is saying. John, with him? His heart pounds frantically. Gosh, does he want that. John – his. Completely. In every way. He’s never wanted anyone before. Not even remotely. But he wants John. He wants him so much it hurts, physically and emotionally and mentally and everywhere in between. It has been driving Sherlock mad. But now… he slowly pulls his hand away from John’s. John’s face falls slightly, as though preparing for the rejection, but Sherlock doesn’t give him the chance.

Sherlock reaches forward, winds his hands into John’s shirt and yanks them together. He presses his lips against John’s and pauses, waiting. John pauses at first, before burying his fingers in Sherlock’s hair and moving to straddle him, their mouths never parting. Sherlock has no complaints. John’s grip in his hair is firm and Sherlock lets his hands move from John’s shirt and down to his waist. John lets out a slight moan, pushing closer to Sherlock.

“John,” Sherlock whimpers, letting his hands slip under John’s shirt and caress his stomach. They kiss lazily for several long minutes as the initial desperation fades away. Sherlock can barely comprehend what is happening. He has John, in his lap, kissing him, _Sherlock._ Of all the people in the world, and John Watson has chosen to kiss him.

Finally, they pull apart and stare at each other, both panting. Then, slowly, John starts to giggle. Sherlock feels his mouth pull into a small smile and he chuckles along with John. Then, without asking or talking or contemplating, John simply shoves Sherlock over and slips under the blanket with him. Sherlock lies back down and sighs contently when John curls into him.

“I love you, Sherlock,” John says softly. “I’m in love with you.”

“Not gay, my arse,” Sherlock mutters to himself, then snorts when he realizes what he’s said.

John laughs. “I’m not gay. I just happen to be in love with you, the man who defies all logic and normalcy anways.”

Sherlock tucks his head down and kisses John’s hair. “I love you, too,” he whispers, hardly believing the words ‘I love you’ have left his lips. How horribly sentimental. How horribly human.

But he is human. He’d almost thought he wasn’t. Sociopath, he was called. Psychopath. Madman. But not now. No. John Watson had walked into his life and changed everything. He hadn’t just lit up Sherlock’s world and defied all the beliefs Sherlock had of the human race, but he had done the impossible.

He had made Sherlock human.

And, surprisingly. Sherlock finds that he is okay with that. He is okay with being human for John Watson.


End file.
